


It's Not A Kink

by lockedin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Sherlock, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Content, Skirts, Thighs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock often forgets to put pants on, or simply doesn't bother to. This isn't usually a problem, even after he starts wearing dresses and skirts around the flat. Only, sometimes he forgets he's not wearing pants, and he forgets not everyone defaults to viewing the body as transport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not A Kink

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing a lot of crossdressing Sherlock headcanons and snippets [on tumblr](http://lockedin221b.tumblr.com/tagged/crossdressing-Sherlock), and Cat has been drawing me lots of fab doodles including [this adorableness](http://catcitycat.tumblr.com/post/71420890177/i-said-id-draw-more-night-vale-but-uh). So I wanted to write her a little something ♥
> 
> NB: In my headcanon(s), Sherlock doesn't wear dresses/skirts for gender identity purposes, to sexualise himself, or any other reason than simply enjoying and usually preferring them over trousers. He's just a guy who wears skirts/dresses, nothing more to it.
> 
>  

It’d been a long day at the surgery, and John simply wanted to relax. He finally got into his chair when Sherlock's voice called from the kitchen, “John?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

“John, look!” Sherlock sounded about as enthusiastic as he did when he discovered an almost non-existent trace of wood stain under the victim's nails last week that ultimately led them to the murderer. John wasn't sure if he had the energy for the mysteries of crime at that moment.

However, when he looked up, thoughts of murder quickly disintegrated. Sherlock stood in the threshold to the kitchen, skirt lifted like a can-can dancer. The skirt was even edged with lace as if hiding a petticoat beneath it—which the one did not. Sherlock was wearing his favourite fishnets, and they were attached to a brand new pair of garters. It took John a moment to realise that the garters were the items Sherlock was showing off, as he also failed to be wearing any pants.

“Er, they're great,” John said with a stupid grin and, no doubt, a bright red flush.

Sherlock scowled and dropped his skirt. “Excuse me for taking you at your word when you insisted last month that I should feel comfortable expressing myself around you.”

“What? Oh! No. Sherlock, no, they're nice, really. I'm glad you're happy about them. But...”

Sherlock sighed, still clearly annoyed. “What?”

“You're, er, not wearing any pants.”

“I know I'm not--Oh.” Sherlock's sharp pale cheeks suddenly got a little colour in them.

“Yeah, you sort of just-”

“Flashed you.”

“Yup.”

“Sorry.”

John chuckled, “I'm not complaining. It was hard to focus on your new garter belts, though, that's all.”

Sherlock walked over and leaned against the arm of John's chair. “You do like them then?”

John put a hand on Sherlock's knee. “Sherlock, you know very well that I have never been nor will ever be an expert on this type of clothing. They certainly looked very nice on a pair of thighs I already love, and they make you happy. So yes, I like them.”

Sherlock leant down and, cupping John’s face, kissed him deeply. As they kissed, Sherlock manoeuvred from the arm of the chair to kneel in the chair itself, kneeling over John’s lap with his calves sandwiched between John’s thighs and the arms of the chair.

“Mmph, Sherlock!”

“Problem?” Sherlock smiled down at him.

John blinked quickly, face hot and not from the kiss alone. “Er, no? I mean, if there’s not for you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “If there was, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Right.”

Sherlock kept John from making any more awkward fumbles by occupying his mouth once more. He took John’s hands, which clutched at the arms of the chair, and moved them to Sherlock’s waist. After a brief moment, John clutched there instead. Sherlock lifted the back of his skirt and dropped it over John’s knees. He pulled the front out so the final result was the skirt making a nice tent over both himself and John’s lap. He plunged his hands underneath that tent and began flipping open John’s belt and trousers.

John, finally past the struck-dumb-with-arousal stage, tugged at Sherlock’s shirt until he had it mostly untucked from the skirt. He pushed his hands underneath, sliding them across Sherlock’s waist and back and chest. He dug his fingers into Sherlock’s skin and moaned into his mouth as Sherlock’s fingers brushed against his cock, still with a layer of cotton between flesh and flesh. That layer wasn’t there for much longer, though, as Sherlock deftly extracted John’s swelling prick through the hole in his pants. A second later, those long fingers had both their cocks pressed together and were rubbing them furiously as Sherlock began rocking against John’s thighs.

John, who’d already had a head start the moment Sherlock unintentionally flashed him, came first, gripping Sherlock under his arms, groaning absurdly into the other man’s mouth, and shoving his hips up. 

Sherlock bucked forward in John’s lap, breaking the kiss, and dropping his mouth to John’s neck instead. “John,” he moaned against John’s skin.

John gasped, Sherlock’s hand still wrapped around his spent cock alongside Sherlock’s still straining erection. “Christ, Sherlock.” He dropped his hands from Sherlock’s torso and flipped up Sherlock’s skirt at the front, exposing their cocks, Sherlock’s hands, and his thighs. Sherlock shuddered at the sudden waft of fresh air against his skin. John slipped his fingers under Sherlock’s brand new garters and gripped his thighs.

Sherlock came with a shout, muffled in John’s neck. He trembled a moment before sinking onto John’s lap.

John pulled his fingers from under the garters and smoothed his thumb over them. He leant his head back and sighed, “You’re making it very difficult.”

“What’s difficult?”

“Not turning this into a kink.”

Sherlock laughed into John’s shoulder before lifting his head and smiling down at John. “You’re making a valiant and gracious effort, my good doctor.” He kissed John softly. “I’ll try to remember to put some knickers on next time I want to show off a new pair of garters.”

“Or we could dispense of clothing altogether and you can show me then.” John gave Sherlock a hesitant smile. When Sherlock rolled his eyes but smirked, John grinned more freely and pulled Sherlock’s head down until their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling pleasantly in the short space between their lips.


End file.
